


If You're Wondering, If I Want You To (I Want You To)

by pandacowhipster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandacowhipster/pseuds/pandacowhipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s not an expert on wooing or taking hints. He gets by with a little help from cult films.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You're Wondering, If I Want You To (I Want You To)

Derek Hale was up shit creek without a paddle. Hell, he didn’t even have a boat at this point. See, he was having _feelings_. Maintaining authority over a bunch of remedial werewolves you happen to call your pack is a lot harder when you’re busy having feelings of a romantic and occasionally—especially late at night when no one was around to see his shame but God—a more physical nature. Worse still, when those feelings are for Stiles Stilinski.

So, shit creek. Paddle-less. Et cetera.

He’d considered ignoring the problem, but the annoying way his heart sped up every time he heard the Jeep’s engine coming toward his house wasn’t exactly going anywhere. And slow as they might be, his pack would eventually question why he kept putting off teaching them to recognize what scents people gave off based on emotions. Being literally sniffed out by Jackson (God forbid, Scott) was not how he wanted things to go down.

So he’s resolved to make some sort of move, which is definitely easier said than done, seeing how he wasn’t exactly social before he started living alone in a giant safety hazard.

He decides to do something after their next pack training. He squares his shoulders as Jackson and Scott pick themselves up off the forest floor and shift back to human.

“Stiles.” He calls, stopping the human in his tracks.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks, trotting back toward where Derek is on the porch, Scott trailing behind him.

“I said Stiles.”  He levels Scott with a look. “Jackson can give you a ride to Allison’s. Right, Jackson?”

Jackson stiffens next to his Porsche, “Yeah, totally.”

Derek’s favorite thing about Jackson is how incredibly easy it is to put the fear of God, or rather, Derek in him.

“You’re not gonna wait for them to leave so you can eat me right?”

Derek holds up a hand to silence him, lowering it once he’s sure the other wolves had driven out of earshot. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, hoping you’re not about to murder me and skip town?”

“No, I mean later, do you have plans?” What had made Derek think this was a god idea again?

Stiles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips. Oh, right.

“Well, since Scott’s at Allison’s I figured I just go home and watch a movie or whatever.”

“Do you… want company?”

Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up, “Really? You wanna hang out? With me?”

Derek clenches his jaw, “I asked, didn’t I?”

Stiles shrugs, “Okay cool. Fair warning though, I was planning on riffing my way through Twilight.”

Derek follows Stiles to his Jeep, “What’s Twilight?”

Twilight turns out to be the most ridiculous, confusing movie Derek has ever seen, but Stiles is next to him laughing his ass off, so it’s okay.

“You actually like this?” He tries to hide his grimace.

“Hell no,” Stiles pauses while Bella is either dying or orgasming on the floor. Derek’s seen both up close and he’s still not sure. “It’s just so bad, it’s funny.”

“That’s idiotic.”

Stiles pokes a finger in Derek’s face, “Just for that, we’re watching New Moon.”

Derek wonders what Stiles would do if he realized forcing them to spend more time together wasn’t exactly a punishment.

Stiles presses play and lets Bella resume her death-gasm, “Wait till you see the werewolves.”

Then again…

Derek wakes up with Stiles drooling on his shoulder, his laptop still balanced on between them on their thighs. Footsteps downstairs cause him to realize what woke him up was the sound of the sheriff’s car pulling into the driveway.

He can hear the sheriff coming up the stairs as he extricates himself from under Stiles and dives under the bed just before the bedroom door opens.

“Stiles?” the sheriff’s boots come closer to the bed, “I swear, you’d spend your whole life behind that damn computer if you could.”

The bed squeaks as Stiles started awake, “Dad! Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I live here. Did you eat?”

“Yeah, we got some pizza on the way back from De—da lacrosse field.” Derek resists the urge to smack a hand against his forehead,

“We?”

“Scott and I, before I dropped him off at Allison’s.”

“…All right. You doing okay?”

Derek can practically hear stiles flailing. “Yeah, yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Right.”

He hears Stiles sigh as the door closes. He pulls himself from under the bed just as Stiles turns in his direction.

“Oh my—” Stiles yelps before clapping a hand over his own mouth, “What is wrong with you?” he whispers, tersely.

“I didn’t have time to use the window.”

“One day I’ll fall in with a group that actually uses doors.” Stiles says, mostly to himself.

“I should go.” Derek says, but doesn’t move toward the window.

Stiles stands and stretches, “Yeah, this was fun though. You’re not as grumpy as I thought.”

Derek smirks, “My mood tends to improve when I ‘m not spending the day informing Scott he’s a wolf, not a buffalo.”

“See? You even tell jokes now, next thing you know we’ll have to cut your strings and make you a real boy.”

“Goodbye Stiles.” Derek opens the window.

“See you later Jacob,” Stiles calls after him.

“Not funny,” Derek shouts back, but he smiles the entire way home.

*

“So I had an idea.” Stiles says to him the next Friday.

Derek raises an eyebrow from where he’s leaning into the door frame of his house. “God help us all.”

“I liked your jokes better when they were about Scott.”

“Hey!” Scott calls from the yard, just in time to be tackled by Jackson.

Derek sighs, “You guys can quit for the day, go home.” He turns his attention back to Stiles, “Yeah?”

“Well, you know how you’re an alien from planet werewolf or whatever and you’re unfamiliar with our earthling pop culture?”

Derek blinks, “There’s a lot wrong with that sentence but, yeah?”

Stiles rakes a hand through his buzzed hair, “I was thinking maybe—” his eyes dart over to where Jackson and Scott are less than subtlety eavesdropping outside the Porsche.

“I said go home.” Derek shouts, not even trying to tone down the growl in his voice.

That gets them into the car, but Scott has a suspicious look on his face as they peel out through the woods.

“That was awesome. Can you alpha them into doing whatever you want?”

“Jackson maybe, I think Scott’s too stupid for his instincts to kick in. Uh, sorry.” He adds belatedly.

Stiles licks his lips to hide his smile at his friend’s expense, “So anyway, do you—do you wanna have a sleepover?”

That’s unexpected. “What?”

Stiles’ hands immediately began gesturing, as if by taking up more space he’ll be less awkward, “I just figured, since you haven’t seen a lot of movies you could come over again and we could watch like Star Wars or something? Tonight?”

“I’ve seen Star Wars,” Stiles’ face begins to fall, “but we could watch something else?”

The grin that spreads across Stiles’ face makes Derek’s heart do that annoying skipping thing it’s so fond of whenever Stiles is around.

“Awesome. It’s cool with my dad too. Well, he’s cool with a friend staying over, I didn’t actually say who. But don’t worry, he’s working late tonight and he goes back in at like one tomorrow, so we won’t even see him.”

Derek vaguely wonders how Stiles manages to talk so much without needing to stop for breath.

“I don’t know what to watch now though, have you seen Lord of the Rings?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

Stiles beams, “Then what are we waiting for?”

“Can I…?” Derek waves a hand at his bare torso. He tries not to read too much in the blip in Stiles’ heartbeat as his eyes trace down the length of his chest.

“Well, go get a shirt and a spare change of leather jacket, and then get your werewolf ass in the car,” Stiles says excitedly, actually smacking Derek’s ass for emphasis.

Derek wanders towards his room, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

“Why are these movies so long?” Derek asks, several hours later as he lies on his stomach on Stiles’ bed. The laptop was settled at the foot of the bed and the fellowship was walking somewhere, they were always walking somewhere.

“To pack in all the awesome, now shut up, you heathen.” Stiles whacks him in the shoulder, eyes glued to the screen.

Derek groans and yanks away the pillow Stiles was leaning on and buries his face into it.

“Aw, is the widdle werewolf sweepy?” Stiles coos at him, ruffling his hair, which has no right to feel so good.

“Stop talking, keep rubbing.” Derek says, hoping in vain his alpha commands have some effect on humans.

“That’s what she said,” Stiles says, but keeps working his fingers through Derek’s hair.

An hour later, Derek wakes up, with a blanket draped over him and Stiles’ hand still absently rubbing his head as he reads an article on lycanthropy. He rolls out of the bed and goes in search of a bathroom. When he comes back Stiles is still engrossed in his article, chewing on his lip as he scrolls. Derek stretches and strips out of his shirt and jeans and crawls back into bed.

“Go to sleep Stiles,” he grumbles.

“But—”

Derek closes the laptop, “That half-baked bullshit will still be there when you wake up.”

Stiles huffs and climbs out of bed, Derek hears him fuss with his belt buckle before slipping out of his pants and top. He stands by the edge of the bed.

“Stiles. Sleep.”

That gets Stiles back in the bed; he squirms a bit before relaxing, his shoulder brushing against Derek’s.

The next time Derek wakes up, it’s with his nose buried in between Stiles’ shoulder blades and his arm wrapped around his waist.

Stiles pats his hand, “Hey Derek?”

“Hm?”

“I gotta pee.”

“Of course you do,” Derek rolls onto his back, freeing Stiles in the process, “your father’s downstairs.”

Stiles nods his thanks for the heads up and heads out the room. Derek lets himself sink deeper into the sheets and tries not to enjoy the combination of his and Stiles’ scents too much.

Derek hears Stiles leave the bathroom and head down the stairs. He decides it isn’t eavesdropping if you were born that way.

“Hey dad,” Stiles opens what sounds like the refrigerator.

“Hey,” a newspaper crinkles, “your friend still here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles says around a mouthful of something. He chews noisily and Derek does his best to remember what exactly he sees in him, “he’s still asleep.”

A chair creaks, “And which friend is this?”

“Miguel.” Derek shoves a pillow over his face, “We partner for history projects.”

“Ah-huh.” There’s a long pause.

“Oh.” He hears Stiles’ heartbeat pick up, “And the reason I’m in my underwear, is because—” Stiles flounders, “You know what? I’m just gonna take an L on this one.”

“Good idea. Do we need to have a talk?”

“No! Please, God, no we do not. In fact I think it’d be for the best if we actually stopped talking, and then never talked about this ever again. Ever.”

The Sheriff sighs, “I know I’m not around enough to keep an eye on you, but just make sure you’re being safe. I don’t know much about any of this but if you need to talk—”

“Dad, if you love me, you’ll seriously stop talking _right now_.” Stiles’ voice sounds muffled, Derek imagines he has his hands over his face.

“Fine, I gotta get back to work anyway. Tell Miguel, I said hello.”

“I’ll be sure he gets the message.”

When Stiles gets back to the room he’s flushing down to his chest.

“You heard every word of that, didn’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“Because you have super werewolf hearing.”

Derek shrugs.

“And you’re a horrible person who’s never going to let me live it down.”

Derek grins.

“Move over,” Stiles say flopping back onto the bed and opening his laptop, “We still have to watch Return of the King.”

Derek drops his head down onto the bed, “you didn’t finish last night?”

“I stopped after you fell asleep; I didn’t wanna go on without you.” Stiles smirks.

“You really could have,” Derek lets out a long suffering sigh, but watches anyway.

*

After Stiles drops him off back home, Derek heads to the grocery store because werewolf metabolism happens to be a bitch and he’s out of lunch meat.

Of course, because God hates him, he runs into Scott and his mother while he’s there.

“You smell weird,” Scott remarks in lieu of a normal greeting. His mother just gapes before throwing her hands up in defeat and heading to the dairy aisle.

“What?”

“You smell weird… You smell like Stiles. Like, a lot.” Scott’s nose wrinkles, as if the idea is particularly distasteful.

Derek clenches his jaw, “I saw him earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I ran into him and we talked.” Derek wishes he could force Scott to back off, but he can’t exactly break out the Alpha voice in the middle of Whole Foods.

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

It takes more will than he’d like to admit not to blurt out “No, just you”.

“I like him just fine. Are we done with the interrogation?” Derek heads toward the checkout before Scott can reply.

*

Derek isn’t sure what to do next. The hook ups he’d had in New York always seemed to start with someone else approaching him, he never had to go looking. He had to do something soon though, because as many ounces short of a pound as Scott may be, he’d taken an interest in whatever interest Derek had in his best friend, and he could only scare Jackson into silence for so long.

He figures Stiles is probably on the same wavelength as him, but he still doesn’t know what to do or when to do it.

He finds Stiles sitting in his Jeep long after one of their Saturday training sessions is over. Derek taps against the passenger window and Stiles waves him in, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you doing?” Derek leans over to get a better look at Stiles’ phone.

“Words With Friends,” Stiles angles the screen so both he and Derek can see it. “Allison is disgustingly good at it.”

Derek takes the phone and slides a few tiles onto the board.

“How did you? Dude, awesome,” Stiles says when Derek hands the phone back, with Stiles in possession of a triple word _and_ letter score on ‘every’.

“I used to play a lot of Scrabble,” Derek smiles.

Stiles smiles back for a moment then suddenly rolls his eyes and groans out “Oh, for the love of—” before fisting his hands around the lapels of Derek’s jacket and yanking him forward into a kiss. It’s a little awkward, but Derek isn’t about to complain.

“Jesus,” Stiles sighs, after releasing him, “Were you trying to protect my virtue or something? Because neither desired nor required, dude.”

“Stop talking.” Derek says and doesn’t give him a choice as he palms the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him into another kiss. He has to hand it to Stiles, what he lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm and hands wandering underneath Derek’s shirt to scratch lines down his back.

“We should do this all the time,” Stiles says when Derek releases his mouth and moves to his neck, raking his teeth against the sensitive skin, “Because this is awesome,” Derek bites down at his pulse, “ _So_ awesome. God, you are so hot.”

Derek grins as he backs Stiles up against the driver’s side door, “I’m glad you think so, you get to tell Scott.”

“Oh, come on, no talking about Scott while your being all—” he gestures rapidly at where Derek has his shirt rucked up under his arms as he licks a path up Stiles’ abdomen.

He manages to get Stiles’ fly open with one hand, the other gripping his hip, thumb rubbing small circles into the skin.

“You’re not gonna, like, wolf out on my dick or anything right?” Stiles pants out, though it doesn’t look like he actually cares.

Derek doesn’t answer him; instead he pulls him out of his boxers and trails his tongue up the underside of Stiles’ dick and scrapes his teeth lightly against the head.

“Oh okay that’s cool I just— _oh_ my god.” Stiles’s voice goes up an octave as Derek swallows him.

Derek groans around Stiles’ cock, “Do you _ever_ shut up?” he asks, when he comes up, kissing Stiles on the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

Ironically, Stiles just shakes his head, pupils dialated.

Derek rolls his eyes and goes back down on him. He starts bobbing his head in a steady rhythm and slips a hand into his own jeans and match pace on himself.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says, “Just so you know, I’m gonna, uh—”

Derek hums in acknowledgement and releases him, working him the rest of the way with his hand.

Stiles’ head lolls back against the window and his eyes flutter shut as he comes, chest heaving. Derek rests his head against Stiles’ shoulder as he follows suit.

“You’re really good at that.” Stiles says after a moment, “I mean, my frame of reference isn’t exactly huge, but I feel like you’re good at that.”

Derek chuckles, “You seriously cannot stop talking can you?”

Stiles actually has the nerve to look smug, “Yeah, but you like it.”

Derek grabs a t-shirt from the back seat to wipe them off with, “Yeah, but you’re still telling Scott.”

Stiles shoves him in the shoulder, “You’re like a professional mood killer, dude.”

“You’re still telling him.” He nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, planting a soft kiss just behind his ear.

“You’re a horrible person,” Stiles says, but still turns his head to give Derek better access, “Using your sexy for evil, like this.”

Derek pauses, “Yeah,” he agrees, “But you definitely like it.”


End file.
